So I Thought
by Rustle-My-Jimmies
Summary: Kagome thought she was alone; that no one could possibly share the weight on her shoulders and heart. A certain silver-haired friend proves her wrong. An (eventually) uplifting story about depression, struggle, life, love, experience, and growth. AU. Rated M for Mentions of suicide, self-harm, rape, and "character interactions" (we'll see). Named after Flyleaf's 'So I Thought'.
1. That Single Moment

**So I was in the nurses office, and thought, "Need a new fic.. No time like the present." I also thought I'd try a dark-ish fic.**

**WARNINGS: This will most likely be a trigger for those with depression and eating disorders. It is also a fic about trying to overcome those problems, but not everything has a fairy tale ending.**

**As this is fan fiction, however, this story WILL have a happy ending.**

**This story is also based on a true story. Yes, my friend (not my friend anymore: HE'S A CLASS-A-CUNT LADIES AND GENTS) actually said what is said in this story to me. No, he did not know what was going on, and no, I was never going to tell him, because I don't trust assholes. I will say though, he doesn't do what the asshole in this story does. Granted, yes, he was an asshole, but he wasn't aware he was being an asshole. Still, those were the exact words.**

**Which brings me to the point. Kagome is me, in my darker stages. Yes, it got this bad, and yes, I was hospitalized. Basically, this story is a dramatized version of my life. With a little more (a lot more...) romance involved. I figured that if I can't fully recover, I'll create someone who can.**

**I also hope that with the growth of my character, I'll grow too, and in that growth, begin to mend myself little by little, as you will see our main character do throughout this story.**

* * *

**Chapter 1: That Single Moment**

* * *

The last droplets of water sound in the sink as I turn off the leaky faucet. Reaching over the bath tub, I use the brown towel to pat my left forearm dry. Lifting the cloth, I look at the puffy red marks I've added to the ever-growing collection from the past few years.

A heavy sigh.

The usual realization coming to my eyes, my always-cold fingertips lightly graze the incisions, and I wince after my fingernail catches one of the cuts a little too sharply.

A hitched breath.

"Shit," I muttered.

Putting the malefactor back in it's hiding place, my head falls into my hands as I sit on the edge of the bath tub.

"When did it come to this?" I softly whisper to no one. "What happened?"

Silently, I stepped into the shower; my safe place, my release, my haven, and the only place that can, if even only for a little while, drown my problems and fears and scars and tears that have since become undistinguishable from the running water, and rinse them down the drain.

My so-called 'friends' have no idea. Nor mother, grandfather, brother. Not that they'd believe me, for that matter. There is not a single soul I've told of my struggle, my self-loathing, my self-starvation, my self-damnation.

And not a single soul that's ever suspected me of it, of any of it.

Because I'm that good at it.

And that used to it.

Being alone.

Shielding.

Hiding.

Barricading.

Keeping up appearances.

Creating a facade.

A twisted illusion.

An empty shell of a once-happy girl, now turned into a marionette, led by my will and raw desire to fit the mold.

And it makes me sick.

Sick of the world, sick of modern society, sick of the media, sick of "Hollywood standards", sick of my peers, my friends, and most of all, sick of myself for succumbing to all of it.

But I'd never take my own life, no matter how many times, how often I've thought of it.

Why?

My logical thought processes. A downfall of mine; I over-think things.

And so I start to think...

My family.

My so-called 'friends'.

Everyone that's gotten used to me being a presence in every day life.

I wouldn't want them to remember me as someone who took their own life, who sought their own escape, a selfish coward. I've kept my facade up for so long, I wouldn't want opinions to change because of the truth. The pity, also, is embarassing.

Furthermore, I feel like I'd be inconveniencing them if I left. My family would have funeral bills they couldn't afford (although I'd tell them not to give me a service; they're stubborn that way), and I hate them having to pay for me in the first place.

But then again,

They'd forget eventually.

Everyone always does.

I'm just forgettable that way.

Or,

at least,

that's what I think.

A self-identified chameleon.

One who is able to blend into groups, therefore having the persona of one with many friends, when in fact, the reality is I have no one to confide in. 'Group-hopping', as I have since dubbed it, is my easiest way of keeping up my appearance and reputation. Polite in the way of saying hello to passerby's in the hallways, and finding someone to talk with, if completely necessary, in classes.

I don't mind them, though.

The girl group in particular, though they do complain about meticulous irkings that put a damper in their perfect, skinny dimples. I sit back and politely listen, but never once mention any of the dark habits and wrong-doings of my own life outside of the learning centre. They, for some reason, accept me, and don't push me away. I'm grateful to them for that. They don't treat me like a freak.

The ones in my larger classes are a different story, though. Not only because it's a group activity, but because I don't fit in.

And they don't like me for it.

They couldn't make it more obvious.

But I paid them no mind,

at first.

I'm involved in extracurriculars, in the hopes of finding a friend, but alas; I don't fit there, either.

Of course, I have the talent.

Any one can see that.

But do I recognize that?

Of course not.

Do they?

Who knows.

I pretend not to see the way they look at me, the way they talk when I'm gone.

Pretend.

I'm not stupid. I'm actually too smart or my own good.

No, no, never stupid.

I'm just smart enough to know when to be ignorant.

The day begins with P.E.

Emily, Amelia, Yvonne, the background noise, break through my silent self-loathing session.

"...and now I'm just waiting for him to finally ask me out!"

I lifted my head, smiled as excitedly as I could, and congratulated my friend. I should be happy for her, and am doing my absolute best to be.

I wasn't, fully, because the envious emerald fire was burning in my chest, leaving a bitter feeling in my lungs. But, my 'absolute best' was really just being sarcastic. And I'm quite, quite good at being sarcastic, so to the point where you can't tell whether I'm kidding or not.

"It's about time, Emily!" Yvonne told her.

"Yeah, especially since you guys have had a thing since Homecoming! I mean, you'd think things would've sped up a little by now, being December and all," Amelia said.

"Yeah, and of all people, you deserve this, with everything you've been through," I add.

'Irony abounds. If only they know what I'VE been through, am going through. It's my goddamn catchphrase, "You deserve this more than anyone"'.

Despite my own problems, I put others before me. Always. It's not just because of my lack of self-worth, but I have a big heart, and I always have. I've always cared for others before caring for myself. I also thought that that was just how people thought.

I could not have been more wrong.

I mean, who do you think set up that relationship? First football game, I was the one who introduced Emily to Nicholas. Homecoming, I helped him figure out how to ask her.

Now they're dating.

Because of me.

With all of my experiences comes knowledge. I think, sometimes, I'm too wise for my age. But that's why everyone I know always comes to me for advice. I, for some reason, have a vast understanding of emotion and how the world and the people in it work.

I cannot remember a time when any single one of them have said thank you.

You'd think people would at least have manners. But you can't expect to many fish from shallow waters.

"Kagome?"

I stopped spacing out long enough to answer.

"What?"

"I said, do you have any exciting plans for winter break next week?" Amelia asked me.

Of all of them, I like Amelia the best. I think she's the kindest and most thoughtful of these three. She's really the only one who will try and include me in a conversation.

"Oh," I looked at her, "nothing special. What about you guys?"

Off they go, buzz buzz buzzing away;

and off I go, blending into the background, yet again.

The second class of the day, English.

English is one of my favorite classes, next to Spanish.

My teacher is so enthusiastic about English, and it makes me smile.

If it makes me a nerd to appreciate and enjoy literature with great literary device usage and plot points, then so be it. Despite myself, I volunteer to lead discussions in class and things I notice about whatever the assigned reading happened to be the night before. This is why my teacher likes me, she thinks I'm very sociable and intelligent.

That's half true.

I try not to be sociable, because when I am, I get louder and tend to ramble, which is one of the top ten reasons why I hate myself.

But I can't really stop when people talk to me first. I consider myself very well-manered, and so I make it a point to be polite. Until I start rambling.

But in this class, I'm able to come out of my shell a little.

That's the same with Spanish. My teacher is also amazing. She's like me, minus clinical depression and green hair, and about 30 years older. I had her last year as well as this year, so she's kind of like a good adult friend more so than a teacher.

Another thing that these two classes have in common, as well as first-period P.E.:

Inuyasha.

Inuyasha Takahashi is one of the star athletes of this school, and for some reason, he's not a pompous ass. He moved here at the beginning of this year, and he's surprisingly... Gentle. He'll joke and talk with anyone, and he's respectful and mindful of others. When in English, he and I pretty much discuss with Mrs. Aono while the rest of the class, not having read the assigned section, takes notes.

He sits next to me, so he talks to me when there's a free moment. He's pretty funny if you talk to him, too.

I don't, though.

HE talks to ME.

He, Mr. Popular-New-Kid, Mr. Girls-All-Over-Him, takes the time to be the one to start a conversation with me.

It's quite admirable, which is one of the reasons I admire him.

I don't think it's love, but one could call it a 'Crush', of sorts.

I'm one who is not easily captured in this sense, but somehow, he got in. I don't know how, but he did.

Upon walking into class, I saw that today is a discussion day. This means that the desks are arranged in six groups of five desks each, and the groups discuss with each other the novel we are currently reading at the time. This time happens to be Nathaniel Hawthorne's The Scarlet Letter.

(A/N: If you've never read it and are considering it, read the SparkNotes beforehand to understand what's going on. My teacher suggested this, which is how you know the work your reading (deciphering) is rather challenging.)

I sit in the desk closest to the left wall, and not 30 seconds later, Inuyasha is setting his things down in the next seat over.

"Hey Kagome, how's it going?" he says as he sits down beside me.

"Good."

Liar.

"What about you?"

"It's going good, thanks. What did you think of the chapter last night, all of this 'baby-daddy-drama'?" He asks with a grin.

"It's ridiculous," I quietly voiced, haughty derision evident in my tone. "It's like Les Miserables, but rather than being 'A Guy Steals Some Bread and Shit Goes Down', it's 'Dimmesdale Can't Keep it in His Pants, So Shit Goes Down'."

Evidently, Inuyasha found this particularly amusing, because he started laughing, and a lot.

"That's hysterical! Really great. You're pretty witty when you want to be Kagome," He told me, his eyes aglow.

'I wasn't trying to be funny, but alright', I thought, though my heart still skipped a beat in my chest at his compliment.

Instead, I chuckled a little and said my thanks.

He enjoys my sarcasm, and appreciates it. And, unlike most people, UNDERSTANDS it.

He, for some reason, can tell when I am and am not being sarcastic. I don't understand how he can, but he does.

Another reason why I admire him as a person.

There's a lot of things Inuyasha does that I don't understand.

For example, how he's nice to me.

Or the way he smiles at me with genuinely kind eyes.

I don't know why,

but he does.

The day, however, after English, had not gone well.

I came home (in the middle of the day) a mess. A makeup-smeared, runny-nosed, heavily-panting, out of breath, mess.

Without stopping to greet my mother, grandfather, or brother in the next room, I headed straight upstairs and locked myself in my bedroom.

I threw my backpack into a darkened corner of the room, then myself onto my bed, trying to catch my breath and insanity all in one go.

* * *

_I walked the usual path from algebra with my "default-friend-from-association-by-class", Naraku, to his locker, then to the hall where the path splits to either the cafeteria or the next hall down._

_Naraku had decided, however, that today would be different._

_He veered me, almost forcefully, down another hallway, a hallway that was a dead end, unless you counted the staircase that led upstairs (that no one really knew about, let alone used)._

_"Where are we..." I was cut off._

_"Detour, Kagome."_

_Some part of me always hated the way he said my name._

_He led me down the hallway, and pulled the door open and held it for me, silently nudging me through the doorway._

_"Why are we..."_

_Slam._

_"What are you doing?" I whispered, suddenly in fear for my life._

_"Kagome, Kagome," he said as he circled me in the small corridor._

_I began to feel small, worthless, like nothing, and it was justified by what he said next._

_"Maybe we should get to class," I shyly offered._

_"Maybe you should kill yourself."_

_My eyes, now brimming with oncoming tears, widened slightly._

_He was never my friend. He never even liked me. He knew from the beginning that things would turn out like this. I should have know from the beginning that things would turn out like this._

_Not realizing that I had been backing up in the first place, my back hit the wall, making me jump a little._

_He matched all of my steps, and was now a hair's length away, as he said,_

_"Tell anyone about this, and I'll kill your family, one by one, while I make you watch, before I kill you."_

_I was in complete and utter shock. Naraku had always seemed like a decent guy, but there was something I could never be sure about when I talked to him. A single word that wouldn't come to mind when I thought of him. Standing there, in that single moment, I could finally think of that word._

_Liar._

_He slid off his jacket and attacked me, roughly forcing his slimy yet chapped lips on mine. I tried to turn my head away, but to no avail, as he used dry vices to keep my head in place._

_I had lost all sense of rules and morality at that point, the only two things on my mind being 'GET OUT OF THERE' and the fear I now held for my seemingly otherwise pathetic life._

_My instincts finally kicked in, and after playing along for about ten seconds, I gave a mighty yell in his ear and a mighty kick to the groin._

_"Worthless BITCH!" He roared as he lunged disorientedly in my direction, missing me by a fraction of an inch, giving me the time I needed to grab my backpack and bolt out of the door at the bottom of the staircase and out into the frozen December afternoon._

* * *

I did not stop.

I did not look back.

I did not catch my breath until I had reached my house and locked the door behind me.

I walked into the bathroom and let the water from the faucet come within degrees of forming icicles before splashing my face, trying to calm down.

I looked at myself in the mirror, staring, searching for someone happier to appear.

She didn't.

After what happened today, I wasn't sure that I even wanted to keep on living.

What is life? Why is it worth living? What's the difference between trudging through life, hopeless and depressed, and simply being dead?

I pulled open the cabinet behind the mirror, pulling out the fairly large bottle of ibuprofen.

_"Maybe you should kill yourself."_

I twisted the cap off and set it on the counter.

_"Tell anyone about this, and I'll kill your family, one by one, while I make you watch, before I kill you."_

I took about fifteen pills in my hand before filling a cup of water from the faucet.

I looked up at my face in the mirror. Mascara ran down my face in flowing charcoal streaks. Deep, dull, lifeless, pitiful eyes stared back through my reflection. I no longer recognized this as the Kagome I once faced when I looked in the mirror.

"Kagome, what's going on in there? You've been in there for a half hour!"

One by one, I began to fill my mouth with salvation.

I closed my eyes, brought the water to my lips.

_"You're pretty witty when you want to be Kagome."_

My eyes snapped open at the memory of this morning. If at all possible, I cried harder.

_Inuyasha._

The moment of hesitation that followed that thought allowed for a few things to happen at once.

Out of sheer shock and realization, I went into hysterics after coughing up all of the capsules that had been in my mouth moments before.

My mother broke down the door and found me, pills, bottle, and shattered glass lying on a soaking wet rug.

"Oh, Kagome," she breathed.

That single moment.

That single thought.

That single PERSON.

Saved my life that day.

* * *

**45 minutes in the nurses office turned into (what will be) an uplifting story about overcoming tragedy, put-downs, depression, mental illness, isolation, and knowing you're not alone.**

**So, in short, IT GETS HAPPIER.**

**This was the introduction (or foreword, if you will) just to get a feel of how our main character here views the world.**

**It's kinda sad.**

**But I love a good vocabulary romp.**

**It's a completely different type of first person than Reality is a Bitch, and I think I like the change. But her view does get better. Of course, some things get worse before they get better.**

**And I only wrote the first 1 1/2 scenes in the nurse's office. The rest was written where I am now, a random hotel some miles off of the College campus I'm visiting in the morning. PARTYYYY.**

**OH YEAH, AND UPDATE ON ME, I GOT...**

**Lol before you read this, please know that it was actually written before turnabout, which was this Saturday. So I now finally finished this. Woooooooo**

**1) Not a boyfriend. (SURPRISE SURPRISE THERE GUYS I KNOW)**

**2) a Turnabout dress whilst wasting time today (the hotel check in was at noon). Anyone ever heard of the store/ franchise called Deb? Wonderful place, check it out.**

**3) A NEW JOB! Old Navy was a dick, and after three weeks of sending me blank schedules, I emailed them and said 'I'm guessing this is your way of telling me I'm fired. I want my final check.' BOOM.**

**Now I work in a small cupcake cafe, and it's adorable and my co-workers are hilaaaaarious. Plus, the owner seems to think I've got a real talent for baking, because my cupcake-frosting-skills and general work ethic (evidently) kicks ass. So shveet. Yep.**

**Tell me what you think, do I keep going? Let me know in a review!**

**Thanks for reading,**

**Jimmies**


	2. That Single Person

**Hi all! Thanks so much for reviewing! **

* * *

**Chapter 2: That Single Person**

* * *

That night was a blur of emergency room visits, blood tests, physical examinations, and endless psychological wear.

Constant prying into my psyche, and the same questions over and over.

Why?

Why did you do it?

If I could have answered, I wouldn't have been there in the first place.

We had been put into a standard, secluded, yet public room, where I was asked to change into a gown- save my undergarments. I sat, covered in blankets, while my mother sat in a chair against the wall. There was much time spent making small talk whilst my mother and I waited between visits from this psychiatrist and that physician.

A bit about my mother. She's a professor of English studies at a local university, so she often comes to school for college visits and lectures during classes. She's also the type who tries to make light of any situation.

"You know, Kagome, why I came to check on you at that specific time, don't you?" my mother suddenly asked me.

I wasn't sure where she was going with that statement, however, and made her aware.

"A very nice boy came to me today and told me he was worried about you, quite handsome too. He said he'd seen you run out of the school from the window of the class he was in, during the middle of the period, saw you crying and was worried. I can't remember his name at the moment..." She trailed off.

My heart was stretching, preparing for the jump to a lighter mood at the thought and possibility of Inuyasha telling my mother he was worried about me.

"Did he have light hair?" I asked, almost timidly.

"In fact, he did, a very peculiar silver shade. Very beautiful, and long, too. And his eyes, Kagome, his eyes! So gentle and caring, just like honey... How could you not have mentioned you had an attractive boy in your classes like him?"

I was in shock, not by what my mother said (though I was slightly put off by her judgement, but only because I agreed) but that Inuyasha had cared enough, had remembered my mother the one time I had told him about her, and had been worried.

I'll be damned if my cheeks didn't tint pink.

He never seems to run out of reasons for me to respect and fancy him.

"His name is Inuyasha," I said, looking down at the hands fiddling with each other in my lap.

"Inuyasha, yes, that's right! Seemed like a very sweet boy, that one. I'd keep him around if I were you."

With that, the doctor walked in, and delivered the fate of my near future.

"We'll be keeping her as an inpatient in our adolescent psychological/ behavioral wing," said the head doctor, Suikotsu (**A/N: Going to be honest, I hate to use Suikotsu as a doctor because he IS one, but, you know, can't help it because the entire story is filled with doctors, so..)** "You can bring her selective toiletries, clothes, and, if you so choose, reading material. That would be tomorrow, though. For now, say goodbye to your daughter so you both can try to get some rest."

I turned to my mother, finding onyx and teary eyes to meet my own similarly-colored ones.

"I'll come and visit during hours tomorrow," she tells me.

I gave her a weak smile and told her I'd miss her.

"We'll all miss you too, Kagome, more than you know," she said as she hugged me rather tightly.

Interesting.

* * *

Because I had only had a t-shirt and sweatpants on, I was allowed to wear my own clothes. After I had changed back, a night-nurse came to my room and gave my mother a plastic bag of my belongings I had brought with me, because there was, evidently, a number of things one was not allowed to have on their person in the part of the hospital to which she was going to take me.

"Sorry 'bout all that, they just wanna know you better before they take ya in, even if it does last 'til damn near 12 o'clock midnight," she said with a slight southern accent. "The time's never important to them, but time itself takes priority over ev'rything. Funny how that works, ain't it?"

The warmth and kindness this woman radiated wrapped around me like a blanket, cuddled me like a newborn child. Despite the situation, I couldn't help but feel... Better.

I immediately decided I liked this woman, and that I could trust her for some reason.

"Yeah," I breathed, "it is."

"And you, dearie, must be exhausted after all the testin' and talkin' they made you do since you been here."

"I guess 'sleep' does sound appealing right now," I sheepishly admitted.

"Alrighty then, let's get you up to your room!" she said, and gestured for me to follow her.

As tired as I was, I payed very close attention to the hallways and elevators she led me through, and eventually we arrived at a rather large wooden door with an intercom on the wall right of it. I thought it was a little strange, though, that the door handle was on the left side and not the right.

The nurse, whose name I later learned from looking at her ID to be Jessie, chose a key from the few that dangled around her neck and unlocked the hulking door.

So began the clock that booked my time in my first (and hopefully last) psych ward.

I feel like I should make a scrapbook, or at least be handed a diploma.

I don't know what exactly I was expecting when I came here, but I don't think it was this. It seemed sort of like any other doctors office; a front desk, a long hallway on either side, and a room parallel to the front desk on far side of the room labeled 'Day Room'.

"Someone will come an' give you a tour tomorrow, but for now you should just try'n get as much sleep as ya can, dearie," Jess told me. I was starting to think that she was bad with names, and hid that by calling everyone 'Dearie'. Or maybe she's just a generally endearing person.

Jess led me past the front desk, and when we came to the 'Day Room', she turned left and brought me to a room with my name next to the door frame.

I noticed the absence of another name, then remembered a conversation I had with one of the nurse practitioners from before.

She asked me my sexual preferences.

I asked her why that was relevant.

She answered, saying that non-heterosexuals are not allowed roommates (for obvious reasons).

I answered.

"So you're sexually attracted to boys and girls?" She asked for my confirmation.

"That's not what I said. I said I was pansexual, which means I'm attracted to personality rather than sexuality. I'm not sexually attracted to anyone."

Yet. Okay, that WAS a little provocative.

"Attracted to both genders..." The nurse ignored me and scribbled, mumbling to herself all the while.

I sighed. I don't know why I bother sometimes.

The moral of the story is, I don't get a roommate.

She led me into the room and explained that I can keep clothes in the dresser and books under the bed, and that someone would be around at about 8:00 to see if I was up for breakfast.

Jess bade me goodnight, and I, her, and I was alone again.

I hate being alone.

But now; now could be different, these kids have the same issues as me, some calmer, some worse. None the less, they're all here.

Maybe it's not just me.

Maybe I'm not really alone this time.

* * *

Blinding sunlight obstructed my vision while illuminating the room when I woke up in the morning. I took a minute or so to let my eyes adjust before sitting up. I was chilled the moment the covers fell from my shoulders and hastily threw on my sweatshirt.

Reaching over onto the floor for my socks, I checked the small clock above the door; 11:36

It was about 2:40 by the time I got to the room last night, and another two hours or so before I actually fell asleep, so 7 hours of sleep is really nice.

Because I didn't have a brush, I hastily threw by butt-length raven hair into a loose french braid and secured it with an extra hair-tie (that I was allowed to keep) on my wrist.

My wrists.

The cuts were still vaguely fresh, being from two days ago.

They were red, they were going to leave scars, they were long, they were deep.

They were ugly.

I was glad to have had my long-sleeved sweatshirt.

Maybe there will come a day that I'll be able to wear short sleeves comfortably again. I stress maybe, because I don't want to have to deal with the stress of questioning when scars are on display.

I looked in the mirror, not entirely pleased with my appearance as my makeup had since washed off, and makeup was not allowed.

'Best it's going to get,' I huffed to my psyche.

I put the hospital socks on after I had put my own socks on, pulled the sweatpants over my ankles, and walked cautiously up to the door.

It took a couple of deep breaths before my hand that rested on the door actually moved and allowed me to pass through.

The main corridor was brighter, the blinds fully open in the Day Room (with giant windows rather than walls) to my left. The front cube ( I call it a 'cube' because it looks like a counter that has three sides, desks in the middle, and offices on the back) was occupied by a nurse that I was not familiar with.

I asked her where the other residents were and what I should be doing.

"They're all in the school room right now, they will be until about 11. That's where you spend the first two hours of the day, after breakfast and a check-in, of course," she explained.

"Alright, and where can I find the school room?" I asked her.

"Oh, you're going to need your vitals checked, and some breakfast in you, I'll call for it after I check you up in a second here, let me grab the machine."

After she had checked my blood pressure ( it was low, as always) and temperature, I was brought a bagel and cereal with orange juice, which I ate in the company of the single nurse, with whom I made polite conversation. Although I wasn't comfortable eating in the presence of someone, I felt comfortable with the atmosphere and allowed myself to eat the first (semi) full meal since the beginning of the school year.

"Thank you for sitting with me, even if it's because you had to," I told her when I was finished. I felt bloated, as my stomach wasn't used to the feeling of being 'full'.

"It's no problem, Kagome. My name is Kikyo, by the way," she responded in kind.

"Nice to meet you, then, Miss Kikyo."

"Oh, please, just call me Kikyo, I'm barely ten years older than you!" she told me with a smile and a wink.

I chuckled a little and told her she didn't look a day over eight years older, which was when she informed me I was her new favorite patient.

"You're a great conversationalist, Kagome, very friendly."

The comment caught me off guard a little. Most compliments do. It's not that I don't like receiving compliments (who doesn't? Talk about an ego Level-Up-er), but more so I never know how to deal with them and respond.

"Thank you, Kikyo, I get that sometimes," I said politely. That's really always the best I've got in terms of responding to compliments.

"I think you'll get along great with the other patients that we have right now. In fact, if you're done, I'll take you to the day room right now to meet everyone and see how things work here, since there's only about..." she checked her watch, "15 minutes before everyone comes back for lunch."

"Alright," I said, rising from my seat with the tray in hand.

"Just put it right over there," Kikyo pointed to a silver, multi-shelved cart whereon my breakfast was delivered.

After the tray was disposed of, Kikyo gave me a smile and led me past the first hall where my room was, past the front desk, and turned right down the second hallway nearest the giant door with the silver handle.

Just as we were going to reach the end of the hall, Kikyo walked into the last room on the left that had the same sort of glass windows for walls as the Day Room; I noticed the label for this room, though, was 'School Room'.

The room itself was significantly smaller than (at least half the size of) the Day Room, though, and had four different tables that sat four people a piece, two computers on the left wall, cabinets lining the right, three single-seating study desks (one directly opposite the door, two on the same wall as the door, on either side of it), and two normal sized windows on either side of the single person desk on the back wall.

From what I saw, there were two boys and three girls. The two boys were at the table closest to the window on the right, and the girls were spread out; two at the table closest to the right window, and one at the other table on the right side of the room.

The two boys seemed to have handsome qualities, save the inch-long ponytail on the one facing me. The rest of him was pretty okay, though; scruffy black bangs over eyes so indigo I could've sworn they were black.

The other boy, from what I could see while facing his back, had a lady-length black ponytail and the same sort of bangs as the first, but a little more unkempt, a little more untamed.

I went on to observing the girls. The one by herself seemed very content to be by herself, with very long brown hair that was stick straight in a loose ponytail. Moving on. The one facing me had beautiful onyx eyes and silver hair. Not silver as in grey, silver as in 'bleached-with-toner-after' silver. I looked to the other girl, she had brown-black hair that was to her shoulders, and, from what I could see, a lot of layers.

"Hey guys, really quick before you head to lunch, this is Kagome," Kikyo announced, grabbing all of the teenagers' attention as their heads turned toward me.

"Hi," I waved.

"Hey, I'm Sango," said the girl with the ponytail sitting by herself. She regarded me with hard, but warm brown eyes.

"Tsubaki," The silver-haired girl announced herself shortly.

"Hi, I'm Yura."

She turned to face me. I'm glad I had enough composure not to react rashly to her shocking scarlet irises that met my eyes.

Contacts? Maybe? Maybe not?

Didn't look like it.

Hm.

I then turned my attention to the two boys sitting together.

"Hello there, my beautiful friend, I'm Miroku," called Rat-Tail.

"The name's Koga," said Pony-Tail.

They were both repulsively charming. However, they seemed to have outgoing and humorous personalities, which I could appreciate, and from then I decided we'd get along just fine.

"Kagome, over here."

I hadn't noticed Kikyo walking past me to the single school desk along the back wall. I walked over to her, and she gestured to a lime green sticky note that had my name hastily scribbled on it, indicating this single-seater desk to be mine. I definitely didn't mind being alone, though.

"I should probably explain. This is the School Room, where you'll do your school work so that you can stay as caught up as possible during your stay here," Kikyo told me. "Normally you, being an inpatient, will be here around 9:15 to 12:00, after which you'll have lunch."

I nodded in acknowledgement, taking a seat as she continued.

"There's also the School Room 'teacher', Kirara-" she looked to a mid-sized, well-built, African woman in her late-twenties (whom I completely missed upon entering the room) who had black. braided hair with pale yellow tips, "-who supervises you kids during the School Room hours. She'll be here to answer any questions you might have with any sort of homework. Your fellow residents can also help with any sort of subjects that give you trouble. As a nurse, I'll be doing one-on-one's with you, as well as the other patients, and you'll rotate what nurse you have your one-on-one's with every two days or so." She looked at her watch, then back at me. "Alright, well I'll see everyone later, I'm due up at the front desk. Bye for now!"

As soon as Kikyo was gone, I head a small chuckle from the corner of the room where Kirara perched on a stool.

"Very nice, but very chatty, that one. Since I couldn't get in a word edgewise whilst she was here, My name's Kirara," She said with a surprising alto that seemed almost impossible for her build. I looked her in the eyes, slowly getting used to the wide array of irides in this wing, as Kirara's were Pale yellow, nearly matching her braids.

An image of Inuyasha's golden eyes flashed in my mind, though the psychiatric nurse's didn't hold same warmth, the same passion, the same intensity as his. Kirara's eyes were lighter, harder, older, and wiser than Inuyasha's. The odd fact was, though, that for as young as Kirara was, her eyes seemed to say otherwise.

I wondered if I'd ever be able to find anything out about Kirara, maybe more than anyone was supposed to.

I'm quite convincing when I want to be.

Before I know it, everyone is packing up their things, and it's then when Kirara announces that we'll be heading to the Day Room for lunch.

I'm the last out, following behind everyone down the long stretch of hallway. Like usual, I suppose.

But it's not too long before I fall into step with the one with the long brown ponytail, Sango, I think.

I look over to her, and she looks over to me.

We both just kind of, smile. Not entirely genuine, but it doesn't take long before the two of us are giggling like school girls without having said anything at all.

I think I've just made a friend. Or, well, as much of a friend as you can have in a Psych Ward.

* * *

**So right now I'm sick, (Great way to start off spring break, ne?) but who gives a crap, (I DON'T) and I was so freaking determined to get this up so that maybe I could find some sort of way to bring my first story, Reality is a Bitch, to a close. I have a few ideas of what should happen with that story, and if you've read it, I'd love to hear some ideas as to what to do with the ending (it won't be immediately the next chapter, don't worry ^-^), and if you HAVEN'T read it, please do (it's much funnier than this one.) so and give me some feedback (I'M GOING TO NEED IT) as to what you guys would like to see happen with that story. I hate writer's block.**

**IN OTHER NEWS. I am also so heightened with emotion (= SO FREAKIN' EXCITED) because I recently auditioned for an Honors credit Drama class at my school and was accepted into the acting [group, troupe, company, (i think it's company...)] aspect of the class, and we get to write our own stuff and perform it and crap and I can't stop smiling and stuff and ahhh :DDDD just woah, but enough ranting.**

**IN OTHER OTHER NEWS: My hair is now Purple into blue at the bottom. Not that you guys care really, but I just felt the need to share.**

**IN OTHER OTHER OTTER (that was on PORPOISE) (I am full of sooo many bad puns. I am sooo soorry.) NEWS: I have decided that I'm going to pose a question to you guys every time I post a chapter. So, My question for this chapter, is...**

**What is your favorite oxymoron? (suuper nerdy, I know. [WOO ENGLISH] If you don't know what an oxymoron is, it's two different words that are put together to form a contradictory phrase. i.e. Jumbo shrimp, bitter sweet, living dead, or awfully good.)**

**(If you don't like that question, or are just too lazy to Google it, just tell me your favorite color. That's close enough.)**


	3. That Single Roommate

**Chapter 3: That Single Roommate**

* * *

For the first time in a while, lunch could be described as 'fun'.

I didn't eat anything because I had eaten breakfast a little bit before, but everyone sitting down together was pretty interesting.

At the giant square (create by putting three long tables together), I sat next to Sango, who sat next to Miroku, who sat next to Koga, who sat next to Yura, who sat next to Tsubaki, who sat next to me. Sango and I were on the side closest to left side of the room, Miroku and Koga on the next side, and Yura and Tsubaki on the side to my right, leaving no one across from Sango and I, and Kikyo in a chair near the corner of the room where the linoleum yielded carpet.

Whether it was Miroku asking me embarassing questions about myself, or Kikyo reprimanding him while the other girls and I laughed, or even Koga and Miroku having talks about "boy-exclusive" things at the lunch table and getting nearly swatted by Sango, I was laughing a little now and then, which was something that I haven't often done in the last couple of months.

And for the first time in a while, I felt like I could make friends with these people. People that, like me, had problems that led them to be hospitalized, but personalities that would never suggest it.

Later, I noticed everyone had either a green or a yellow sheet next to their trays; everyone brought them over to Kikyo as they finished their lunches for her to mark something thereon.

"What are those sheets?" I wondered aloud.

"Oh, that's right, forgot to give you one of these," Kikyo said as she stood and walked through the door and over to the front "cube" and was handed a green sheet after exchanging a few words with the current receptionist.

"Here you go," she said after marking a few letters and/or numbers. "This is your daily point sheet, and you'll receive points for each time block, or, activity of a sort, based on your participation. If you're behaving, you'll get all of your points. If you don't, then you get little to no points."

"Do I fail if I don't get my points?" I asked, not entirely sure if I was or was not being sarcastic. It still earned a few giggles and chuckles from my fellow patients, though.

"In a sense. You're more failing yourself than anyone, because your stubbornness would be preventing you from an early discharge," she explained.

**(A/N: The term discharge is used as a way to mean "being released from the hospital". It's not a sexual thing. Sick bastards.)**

"Alright, understandable."

I sat down and looked over the sheet, and saw that there was an exact schedule for the day that went something akin to this:

8:00- Wake up/ Vitals

8:30- Breakfast

9:00- Check In

9:15- School

10:00- School

11:00- School

12:00- Lunch

12:30- Back to Room

1:00- Group

2:00- Group

3:00- Back to Room- Outpatients leave

3:30- Snack

4:00- Group

5:00- One on Ones

6:00- Visiting

7:30-Back to Room

8:00- Dinner

8:30- Reward Time

9:00- Art Room

9:30- In Bed

10:00- Lights Out

And next to every activity were a couple of boxes, which looked to be the point system Kikyo had mentioned. I now had three check marks and an initial from Kikyo in the box for lunch and everything before it.

* * *

The time in my room came and went as I waited to be called for the first group of three listed. What this group would entail, I was not sure.

Once everyone was gathered in the carpeted area of the Day Room, each person grabbed a chair and formed a circle. There were eight of us in total, including myself, Sango, Tsubaki, Yura, Koga, Miroku, and we were joined by Kikyo, who was sitting in as an observer, and the woman who evidently lead this particular group.

"Alright everyone, let's start with introductions as always. Say your name, your mood-" Sango had earlier explained that it was based on a scale of one to ten, one being the worst "- why you're here, and your topic for today. Who wants to start?"

"I'll go," Tsubaki volunteered. "My name is Tsubaki, my mood is a 9, I'm here for anxiety, specifically extreme OCD, some anger and depression, and my topic will be discharge," she finished, smiling at the last portion.

"Oh yes, that's right," the nameless woman said, voice thoroughly gentle. "You're getting discharged today. You as well, Yura?"

Said girl responded with a cheerful nod.

One by one, the patients began to introduce themselves.

"I'm Sango, my mood is about a 7, I'm here for Post Traumatic Stress Disorder, paranoia, and depression, and my topic is going to be... Hmm.. We'll go with friends, to be broad."

"Name's Miroku, I'm here for a suicidal attempt, depression, some anger and anxiety, my mood's a 7... point 5.. And I'll talk about family."

"Koga, mood's a 6 ish, 7, I'm here for Anger management, substance abuse, and depression, and I'll talk about my family too."

"Wow, aren't you cute," Miroku teased, having had the same topic.

"Oh, shaddup," Koga told him.

"I'll interrupt the flirting if you ladies don't mind," interjected Yura, earning a giggle from a few of us, myself included. "I'm Yura, my mood's around a 9, I'm here for a suicidal attempt, depression, and trichotillomania, and I'll also talk about discharge."

"I'm Kikyo, my mood's an 8, and I'm here as an intern today, just keeping an eye on you," she said with an evin grin.

"My name is Kaede, and I'm a resident social worker in this wing," the woman finally introduced. "My mood is an 8, and I hope this time will help you reflect and heal. Kagome, it's your turn, but at as it's your first time in group, you don't have to have a topic. If you want to have one, that's perfectly alright too."

"Umm okay," I started. "My name is Kagome, I'm here for suicidal ideation and attempt, depression, and an eating disorder, my moods a 5, and I'll just listen for today."

"Thank you, Kagome. Alright, with that, let's begin. Who wanted to start?"

* * *

The outpatients were went home after the second group, and the inpatients, which included myself, were sent to our rooms. Everyday after lunch, the three groups, and our snack (I didn't eat, as I was still full from breakfast), the inpatients are sent back to their rooms, and later while I was alone in my room, waiting for my one-on-one, the reality of where I was had finally set in.

It was seemed less like a hospital and more like a prison. When we weren't participating, we were in solitary.

And solitary it was, as well as depressing.

[Pun unintended. Depressing space for the depressed. ("Kagome, no dark humor right now.")]

That's why I was there in the first place, anyways, right?

* * *

The silence seemed almost too profound, too resonant to handle when the intercom finally came to life and told us to take a place in the day room for visiting.

I hadn't realized how much I missed my mom until I heard the words "Alright, if everyone will come and take their places in the dayroom, we'll send the visitors in when everyone is there!" spoken over the intercom.

I nearly bolted off of my bed to run to the door, but detoured to the lavatory instead.

Looking at my reflection in the mirror, my braid had been greatly loosened by the events of today, and so I quickly pulled the hair tie from the bottom of my hair and let the midnight waves tumble down my back. I decided I'd leave my hair down, because it looked pretty decent if I pulled the front back.

I calmly rushed to the dayroom, and took a seat on the wall with the windows, and was the first person in the room.

After an agonizing three minutes, Miroku had taken his seat at the table, and since Tsubaki and Yura had gone home this afternoon, Sango and Koga were missing.

I turned to the Miroku and asked, "Is Sango coming?"

"Did you not know? Her mom and dad were killed in Afghanistan, and only parents and legal guardians can visit. Her older brother Kohaku is her guardian, but I've seen him visit twice in the three weeks I've been here with her. I think he does something with the military, too..." Miroku told me.

"Oh, my god," I muttered.

"Yeah, I'm glad that even though I also lost my parents, I wasn't really old enough to remember one of them. Though I lost my father when I was six, Mushin took me in, and we're really close, so that's good."

"That's good, I guess. What about Koga?"

"Oh, he's turning eighteen in three months, but he emancipated about nine months ago, so he doesn't really want to be in contact with his parents until he has to be."

"That's kind of.." I trailed off, not knowing exactly how to respond.

"That's what I said," Miroku told me, evidently having thought the same thing.

"Kagome."

I turned to the sound of my name and saw my mother standing in the door of the dayroom with a reusable shopping bag in hand.

"Mom," I said quaintly, smiling at her.

After giving me a quick hug and greeting Miroku's guardian(Mushin... was it?), we sat down and began to talk; not even as mother and daughter, but as friends. She showed me the things she brought from home, worrying whether or not I thought they were okay, and what had been going on with my school work and what my teachers had said about making up my grades. They all were very flexible, which was greatly appreciated.

"So how do you like it here?" She asked me.

"Everyone is so nice, and the food's alright, plus I have my own room," I told her.

"That's nice," she commented.

"Eh, I mean I guess it's nice, it's just that we spend a lot of time in our rooms, so I'm often alone."

"Ah, I understand. I haven't told Sota exactly why you weren't home, because I wasn't sure you'd want me to, or whether or not he'd understand. I mean, he's only 10, yet..." I always found my mom very capable of making decisions on her own. I suppose the reality of what's going on and where she is made her uncertain.

"Tell him I'm on a school trip," I decided.

"Alright. Oh, I almost forgot to mention," my mother detoured. "I called that boy down to the counseling office, Inuyasha, and thanked him for his concern, and told him you were being treated for a fight you got into."

Well, I suppose that's better than saying I was being treated for a suicide attempt.

"Thanks for letting him know, but did you tell anyone else?"

"No, especially when you asked me not to. Though I'm not entirely sure he bought it, because he responded with, 'A fight? That doesn't sound like Kagome, but I'd hate to see the other guy!'."

"Thanks, mom," I told her genuinely. But in that moment, I'm not sure whether I was being thankful for her secrecy, her acceptance of the situation, or for just being the best possible mother she could.

"You're welcome, Kagome," she said back, putting her hand on my thigh.

"Visiting time is over, please say your goodbyes and last minute remarks," I heard a nurse say from the corner of the room. She held a silky smooth alto that matched her incredibly dark auburn hair perfectly.

"I'll see you tomorrow, okay?" My mom said, getting teary-eyed.

"Mom, it's in 23 hours," I said, trying to calm her down.

"Sure it is, but it's horrible not having you at home with us." The look my mother gave me reminded me of a sad puppy.

"I'll be fine, and I'll be waiting for you at the same time tomorrow." I hugged my mother, squeezing slightly. Even though I was in the hospital for a suicide attempt among other things, I'm the one comforting someone else. It's just such a Kagome-ism in itself that it makes me laugh, partly because I'm the one who comforts others and seeks to help them despite my own problems, and partly because I'm walking irony.

And, as I watch my mother walk out of the day room, across the hall and out the double-wide door, I realize I'll miss her just as much for those long twenty three hours.

* * *

That night could've been described as interesting at the very least.

The time was around 11:30, and I was back in my room, doodling on a notebook I'd been given a little earlier in the day by the nurse with that spoke with the southern drawl, Jess.

I had written notes to Grandpa and Sota, and was about to start doodling the lyrics to a Paramore song when I thought I heard unusual noises from the cubicle outside my door. Being the first room next to the dayroom, I was usually subjected to hearing the quiet bustle of the night nurses, but tonight was a little louder than normal.

I had heard it mentioned that new patients come at anytime of day or night, and it wasn't uncommon for inpatients to be brought in late at night, like I had been.

Thinking I'd be nonchalant about seeing what was going on and finding whether my thinking had been correct, I opted for asking for a glass of water at the desk.

Slowly turning the handle, my hand froze as I saw bright white hair sitting on the chair nearest the hallway I would have been walking in.

Another mental image of Inuyasha flashed through my head, and I was instantly flooded with a mix of joy and panic; joy for seeing him, panic for seeing him here.

Then, maybe, it's not him. You can never be sure with only a back-of-the-head that's less than half of his head...

Only one way to find out.

I cautiously turned the door handle, and shuffled outside, feigning tiredness.

"Hey, Jess," I said as I approached her where she stood in front of the desk, also trying not to notice the figure sitting in the chairs that were now behind me, "I'm just grabbing some water."

"Oh, Kagome, good, I was just about to come get you."

"Why?"

"Kagome?"

Although I had figured it was him, his voice still froze me where I stood.

I turned my body slowly to the source of the voice, only to be met with wide honey-colored eyes.

"Inuyasha."

**(A/N: So, normally, I would've stopped here, but I've been such a dick about not updating, I'll continue just for you guys :D)**

The look on Jess' face was ecstatic. "So you two know each other? Even better! I was just about to come get you because I knew that you were awake, and I wanted you to meet your new roommate."

"Roommate?" We questioned in unison.

"Yes, Roommate. But it looks like I don't need to introduce you if you know each other! Kagome, if you wouldn't mind helping Inuyasha get settled in his room, that would be great!" With that, Jess rushed off with (what looked to be) Inuyasha's knapsack that had held a few of his belongings, leaving me with Inuyasha and the contents of said knapsack.

"So... ummm... Hi." I decided on a greeting, having nothing else to say.

"Hi," he responded, seeming to be at an equal loss for words.

"Um, my- sorry, our room, is this way," I said, guiding him to the room that would now house the two of us.

As soon as the door was closed, we evidently had the same question on our minds because we both asked, "Why are you here?"

"Wait, okay, one at a time," I said. "I thought you knew why I was here, my mom mentioned talking to you."

Inuyasha, evidently knowing what I was talking about, turned red at the statement.

"I was just worried when I saw you running out of the building looking a mess. I remembered you mentioning your mom visiting the school that day for college visits, so I went down... and talked to her... about you," he finished, pausing to fiddle with another part of his dark grey hoodie (that lacked a drawstring-)

(Hello, mental hospital wing, nothing that could be used as a weapon allowed).

I spoke softly after a short pause:

"You saved my life, Inuyasha."

He looked up, a troubled sort of look on his face.

"But you ended up here because of me."

"I'm alive because of you."

He sighed and sat down on the edge of his new bed. "I guess you're right, and I'd rather it be that way than not having you with us."

A pregnant pause followed before I answered.

"So, I guess I should probably, um, thank you, for that," I blushed, trying to find something else to talk about before the silence became awkward, and decided on a small detail that bothered me.

"By the way, I thought that pansexuals couldn't have roommates. That's what the nurse told me during my assessment. She was pretty rude about it, too."

"Well, it depends," he said, not making a point of my sexuality, which I respected greatly. "The first time I was here, I told the nurses that I was A-Sexual, they totally believed it too. I've had most every kind of roommate."

"Why would you, are you really A-Sexual?" I asked, admittedly a little interested.

"No, but you've got to make your own fun in a place like this," he said nonchalantly.

"You've been here before?" Now I was really curious.

"Yeah, this is my second time here. The first was for depression and unsafe thoughts and urges and stuff, but this time is different."

I figured if he wanted to share the reasons he was here before and has since returned, he'd share them on his own time.

"Either way, it's a nice surprise to end up having a roommate after seeing how much time is spent in here; albeit, alone if you don't have a roommate. Plus, I know you, but I'm not sure if that's bad or good yet."

"I think it's good," he said, matter-of-factly. "I love being in class with you, and I'm glad that in this place, it's you of all people."

I was almost positive that my blush was not going away after this.

"Me too," I agreed bashfully. "And I'm not saying you have to, because we will tomorrow during group with everyone, but you can talk to me, about why you're here, only if you're comfortable."

"Likewise. We'll get through our problems together, and become better friends through it."

The smile he gave me was so pleasant it warmed my chest and head from the inside out.

"You consider us friends?" I had never thought that we'd get to the place of being called friends, though I was not complaining in the slightest.

"Of course, Kagome," he said as though it were common knowledge, "and friends help each other out in times of need."

"I've never really had anyone that I truly called my friend, or a best friend for that matter." Twiddling my thumbs, I noticed that moment how interesting the ground was.

Warm hands covered my own and I looked up into their owner's eyes as he spoke to me.

"Let me be your first, then."

I'd like to mention here that I was not thinking of 'best friend' when he said "first".

Therefore, I couldn't exactly hold back my laughter, thus earning a blush from Inuyasha as he realized what he'd just said and took a step back, disconnecting our hands at the same time.

"Crap- wait- not what I meant-" I cut him off.

"It's okay, I knew what you meant," the smile was still in place on my face. "I'd love for you to be my first best friend."

"Are you sure? I mean, there are a lot of things you don't know about me-"

"That I'll learn over time, and the same with me. Man, I thought you'd be a little more willing since you brought up the idea."

"No- Yeah- That's perfect. Yeah, I'd like that."

"Alright then," I said as I stuck out my right hand as to formally introduce myself. "My name is Kagome Higurashi, and I'd like to be your friend."

The smile was instantly back, and he met my hand with his. "It's nice to meet you Kagome, my name is Inuyasha Takahashi, and I'd love for the two of us to be friends as well."

As we stood in close proximity, our enveloped hands shaking like second graders, I knew that Inuyasha and I would become great friends, better than we already were. And, hopefully, eventually, something more. Someday.

* * *

**WOW OKAY HI GUYS**

**I APOLOGIZE FOR BEING A ROYAL DICK AND NOT UPDATING FOR LIKE TWO MONTHS, BUT HEY, I HAD A SHIT TON OF STUFF TO DO. So, this chapter was written over a course of about a month****, and I finished from where we first see Inuyasha yesterday and today because I felt bad. **

**SO NOW, there you go. They've been reunited, so to speak. And why is Inuyasha in the hospital?**

**I'll make something up later.**

**Either way, HERE IS THIS CHAPTER'S QUESTION:**

** Who is your favorite poet? (If you can't name one or just can't decide, what is your favorite school subject and why?)**

**Leave a review and let me know what you thought of this chapter, it really does help my my writing!**

**THAAANKS**

**Jimmies**


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